


If You Can

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Love, M/M, Star Gazing, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 01:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7597984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco had taught Jean so many things since he had entered his life. He had taught him about moments, about friendships, and about love.</p><p>(And he had taught Jean about the frailty of forever.)</p><p>Accompanied and inspired by 'Catch me if you can" by EDEN.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Can

_Of course I'm scared_

Jean liked to fancy himself someone who wasn't a complete idiot. Even though people like Eren liked to try and tell him that he was, the two-toned haired boy knew that he wasn't as bad as Eren said, and if not then at the very least he knew he wasn't as bad as that suicidal idiot. And because Jean wasn't a complete idiot, he knew that it was really the little moments embedded in time that made life worthy living.

And Jean actually did know a thing or two about those small moments. He'd underestimated them at one point in life, he'd yelled at his mother and not appreciated her, he'd considered himself a bad leader, he'd gotten himself into so many messes. . . And just as usual, it was Marco who got him out of those messes and taught the other boy to start to appreciate those special little moments.

Because of course it would be Marco.

Of course it would be.

Who else?

_Would I be thinking straight if I wasn't_

One of those little moments was when they were still just in training. They were a year away from being finished with their training, and it felt to them they they were already a million years overdue from that date. A small group of them (Marco, Eren, Mikasa, Connie, Jean, Sasha, Armin, Reiner, Annie, and Bert) would do stupid things together sometimes like staying way past when it would be a good idea to go to bed.

They knew that they would regret staying up so late together in the morning. They knew that in the morning their bones would ache with the weight of needing more sleep, and they knew their skulls would pound as if they had drank till they were stumbling drunks. But they didn't especially care, as that group of people had all agreed on some level (whether orally or not) that they needed those nights to remember that they were more than just robots in training to fight, they were people with lives and pasts and futures and a present that seemed way too big and too small to fit into all at once.

They needed the nights to remember they were alive.

_Of course I'm scared sometimes_

It wasn't like they would plan it. It would usually just start with Eren talking to Armin and Mikasa about something like, "hey, I heard this guy saying that in the woods there's this clearing where it's haunted on a full moon!" And Jean would over hear, and then call Bullshit on Eren. They would argue till they made the decision to go there for themselves and see which of them was right.

Marco would get dragged into it with Connie and Sasha because they were Jean's closest friends in the 104th, and Reiner and Bert and Annie seemed just overhear or be randomly invited to come by one of the people in the original group to go. Eventually, they might realize that it was the group and they had somehow reverted back into one of those nights. Not like any of them minded.

Most of them even looked forward to the times when they'd have a night to just be kids together.

_Even if I say it don't phase me_

The Night that they went to the clearing in the forest was full of hidden smiles and a bit of planning on how they'd need to sneak out and manage to get everyone out and in without being caught. Eventually they got it all figured out (even though none of them actually followed the plan and had ended up doing their own thing to get out, the thought and attempt at being organised was there).

When they got there, somehow they had been talking about the worst way to die. "Being killed by ghosts in this clearing!" Armin exclaimed a little bit nervously. Reiner laughed at the smaller blonde boy. Eren, however, stepped forward and demanded with an intense fire in his eyes that they were being stupid, couldn't they see that being eaten by a titan was the worst way to die? That was why they were all there after all.

There was a moment of silence after that.

_Or if I say I'm not hazy_

"I don't think so, Eren," Jean said in his somewhat lazy drawl. "The worst way to die by far is drowning." Annie had started a quiet conversation with Mikasa, but everyone else was more or less paying attention to the tiny debate between Eren and Jean.

"Oh really," Eren challenged, crossing his arms over his chest. "And why is that, Horseface?"

Jean clenched his teeth at the annoying nickname, but he started talking despite how much he would've rather punched Eren's face at that moment. "Well, imagine this. You're swimming up, and it looks like the surface is close but every time you get a little closer to air you're needing it more until you can't help it, you either suffocate or you inhale water. It foods your lungs and you don't stand a chance but your last view before you go is the surface of the water, still seeming so close and mocking your human frailty."

_But drowning ain't so bad_

"Oh, that's not true, Jean." Their heads turned to face Marco, who's voice had been soft and subtle yet surprising all the same. The freckled boy hesitated for only a moment at the sudden amount if attention on him, but then he smiled and continued with what he had been saying. "Drowning . . . When you think about it, it isn't really that bad after all. Not . . . Not really." Jean felt himself getting confused at Marco's response.

"Why?" The question slipped out of the two toned haired boy before Jean could even give it more thought, the way that Marco had subtly requested them to. Well, whatever. It was too late.

The freckled boy sighed, then looked back up a at the stars, sitting and then laying flat on his back. It was only when the other's had sat down too and Jean hadn't played down yet because he could see the stars in Marco's eyes that the freckled boy answered Jean's question. "Well, when you're drowning, even if you're staring up at the water and you know it's torture because if you could only swim a little bit higher you might live, but . . . I mean, at least you know where you're going."

And Jean realized that maybe there were several sides of Marco Bodt that he had never seen before.

_Cos at least you know where you're going_

Slowly and steadily, they all ended up laying on the grass of the clearing. While on any other night Jean would be able to think about the different constellations that were gracing the night sky with their presence, this was not one of those nights. While Jean might usually be able to focus on the conversation flitting from few people to few people to all of them to bring nonexistent, that was not one of those nights.

Jean was too busy hearing the steady inhale and exhale out if Marco. He was too busy remembering the way the stars had looked reflected inside the freckled boy's eyes. And Jean was way too busy, because somehow his hand had found aforementioned freckled boy's, and he couldn't think about anything other than the way Marco was holding his hand like a tender lover yet would sometimes squeeze it like he was trying to tell Jean a secure through Morse code.

He was too busy to notice anything other than the hand in his and the heart in his chest practically beating so fast it would collapse.

_And we're all future bound_

He wondered if it all would be the same in the morning. Would Marco still be willing to hold his hand when the stars aren't out and when people could see them? Was Jean reading way too far into it? Then again, the two toned haired boy hadn't really thought about Marco in a way other than anatomically before. He hadn't thought about holding the other boy's hand till it was brushing his own.

How did Jean know that he would be willing to hold Marco's hand once the sun came up and there was nothing but reality to hold the two of them together?

The really wasn't an answer readily available for the two toned haired boy. He wanted there to be, he really did, but it was dark and the stars were not bright enough to shed light on the topic, no matter how hot they were burning all those miles away. Jean found himself staring at the sky am d becoming incredibly scared of the hand in his, because he was so unaware of what its absence would mean.

_So I guess that's really the same thing_

But then he felt Marco squeezing his hand again, and he decoded something. So what if Marco didn't even want to look at him the next day? So what if Eren looked over right now and never let him live down the fact that he might just have something for the freckled boy? So what if Jean was still muddled in his thoughts about what he should do? So what? He had Marco's hand at that moment under the stars, and that was what mattered.

He had the warmth of the freckled boy's affection dusting his cheeks for that moment, and that was all that mattered in that moment.

Why?

Because, in that small and intimidatingly large moment under the stars, all that mattered was not how much it mattered but that the moment mattered the most and that was more than his doubt.

_But I always liked the thought of maybe being a runaway_

A few weeks later, Jean was quite familiar with the feeling of Marco's hand in his. He had hardly been able to go further than fleeting contact and scared yet firm hand holding. So when the two of them were assigned cleaning of one of the barracks areas, Jean was feeling a lot more confident than he had been on that night and in that moment under the stars. Unknown to the two tone haired boy, Marco was feeling more confident as well.

So when the two entered the room, (Jean grumbling at how messy it was and that they shouldn't be the only ones who had to clean it) Marco grabbed Jean's sleeve before he could walk to the back of the room where the brooms were. He took a moment to steel himself before pulling the other boy closer to him. Jeans breath hitched, his chest pressed flush against the freckled boy's.

_I could be your lover and you could be my heart ache_

"Marco?" The two tone haired boy asked, his voice uncharacteristically small for the usually loud and like a spitfire boy. The freckled teen breathed heavily, before resting his forehead on the other boy's. He entertained their fingers with the care of someone who knows the hand that they are holding well by that point.

"Yeah?" He replied, his voice not small like Jean's but soft to match his pitch (in his head, Marco almost laughed at the thought that you have to be really careful to not spook horses). The two tone haired teen bit his lip, before closing his eyes and leaning in. And Marco met him in the middle, his lips uncertain at first but then growing more confident as he learned the way to move his lips against Jean's to male the other more comfortable.

And they both learned that maybe you don't have to answer a question with words, you can answer it with smiling against skin and entertained fingers underneath the stars and a roof all the same.

_I could sing the songs that we used to sing when we were kids_

Their mouths opened against one another with the casual feel of people who have time. The one of Marco's hands that wasn't entertained with Jean's wrapped itself around the other boy's waist so as to pull him closer. Jean's other hand tangled itself in Marco's hair as he got more and more lost inside the unexpected kiss. The funny thing was though, as he felt himself growing lost as if he was in a deep wood, he had the strangest feeling that he was coming home.

Marco tried to bring him impossibly closer, they were swaying in their kiss as if it was some kind of unknown dance that came as naturally to them as breathing did. Jean whimpered the tiniest bit into the kiss when the freckled boy stared to move his hand a little lower than just the other boy's waist, and the two tone haired boy blushed at the unintentionally made sound of potential submission.

Jean could feel the smile of Marco's against his lips turn a little bit more into a devilish smirk.

_Maybe that could bring us back to before we got stuck in this_

As the minutes passed by, their lips separated before going together again like they were made to fit against the other like long lost missing puzzle pieces. As their kisses grew less desperate, they also grew slower am d somehow a bit more easygoing and lazy as well. Eventually, they simply were content to close their eyes and rest their foreheads on each other and listen. To the steady sound of the other one breathing in and out. Their hands, however, never released each other from the tight hold.

And suddenly Jean remembered the moment when Marco said drowning wasn't that bad, as you could at least know for certain where you were destined to end up. The two tone haired boy could feel his brain slowly wrapping itself around the idea, and he finally understood on some level what the freckled boy had been talking about during that night under the stars and of tight hand holds.

_I want to be like John Dillinger_

The moments were what made it worth it. When the training got rough, Jean would remember what it had felt like to hold that freckled boy's hand under the light of a million twinkling and winking stars above. When he felt like maybe he should just give up, the two tone haired boy would try and remember that moment when Marco had kissed him like the world was at a standstill and they had all the time they wanted to explore each other's lips. That lip locked time.

And the one after that, and the one after that, and the one after that, and the many, many times after.

It had been Marco to teach him. Without that dark haired boy, Jean had wondered to himself, would he have ever been able to notice the changing of time and the fragility and strength of those beautiful freezes in time. Jean was able to think about his mother and miss her like he had struggled to swallow before. He was able to recognize each little fist fight with Eren and fiery eyes as a time spent with his (though he would never stop being reluctant to admit it) crazy suicidal friend.

_Just try and catch me if you can_

Jean held on to each moment and identified them like they were precious gems in need of being watched over. Marco had changed him for the better, but at the same time Jean felt the exact same as ever. Every time that Marco would give him that smile and kiss the worry off his lips, off his forehead and out of his heart, Jean wondered why the freckled boy had decided to save him of all people. Why did he teach Jean to savor and know the moments, wasn't it a waste?

He wondered what Marco was getting out of their little relationship. He felt like it took so much to maintain him, more than he'd ever thought, so what made it all worth it to Marco to put in all the work of making Jean belief in the next day and the next, and perhaps think of grasping forever? It took a lot of thought, and one day near their graduation from being simple trainees, Jean decided to speak a little bit of truth to the boy who had slept the last bit of the year by his side.

_And we could drive off in the sunset_

"I'm in love with you, Marco Bott," Jean whispered into a kiss, and he chided himself for sounding so breathless. What an insufferable sap he had become over the years. It was probably just Marco rubbing off on him again, that black haired boy was the biggest romantic that Jean had ever even thought he could maybe know sometimes. It some moments felt a tad ridiculous, but Jean didn't mind. Not really.

The freckled teen smiled a toothy little thing at Jean through the darkness, and gave the two tone haired boy a kiss like no other. "I'm in love with you too, Jean Kirstein," he whispered back, his voice sounding a little bit frantic bit a little bit relieved. "I will always love you," the romantic freckled boy muttered between quick kisses in the dark and quick sparks igniting in Jean's heart.

_Even if its not the plan_

He felt like a stupid fucking girl, but Jean couldn't stop a question from slipping out of his mouth. "Forever?" He wanted to bite his tongue to make the word stop, but he couldn't help it. Still, it wasn't that bad of a thing to say apparently, because Marco's Cheshire cat grin had widened against the two tone haired teen's lips in an impossible yet beautiful way of conveying feelings.

"Of course," came Marco's soft but so, so there reply.

Of course.

And Jean thought that maybe Marco really was rubbing off on him, because look who was smiling against the others lips now. "Same here," went Jean's gruff and subsequent reply. And even though it wasn't a beautiful and well constructed poem, the words left idea lips like a prayer and made Marco want to make good on their shared promise even more than he had when he first made it a few seconds previously.

_Cos plans are over rated_

And Jean could feel forever creeping up on him somehow. Just how long was forever, exactly? Perfection was already relative, so who was to say that forever couldn't be relative as well? What if a forever for Marco was just a few more days? What if a forever for the both of them was ended by the giant maw of an unfeeling titan? Jean could feel the worries piling up again, no matter how many times Marco kissed them away.

The days felt like each one of them were taking up an infinity, yet each one was done am d gone so fast. Sunrises and kisses and honesty and sunsets and freckles blended together till suddenly their days as trainees were over and harsh reality had punched on then without giving them even a moment to prepare themselves. The kisses that had blended and fleeting yet lingering touches were becoming clear and crystal now that they were threatened with the fright if limitation.

_Cos you never really know where you're going_

And their lives were so quick, they were so fucking young. How had they been able to promise each other forever when they didn't even know what time was yet? They had only been Alice for a few seconds, and now they were being pulled towards violence and gaping titan maws and life was so short and so long and how had they been able to find it inside themselves to promise something that neither of them had ever even had?

And then they were on a rooftop and that trio had been split up and Armin was practically broken. Mikasa wasn't good at giving speeches, and he was pretending he had any control at all but really he had no idea what he was doing. The worry had built up and it was like adding weight in a bag to make it spin faster, and Jean was spinning faster and faster and faster and nearing the point where you lose control.

_And the past is always changing_

And then they had somehow gotten a few seconds of safety, and Marco was incredible. He had found a way to kiss the worry off of Jean's face without so much as moving his lips closer to the two tone haired teen. Marco told Jean that he was a weak person but a leader, more or less. And Jean somehow felt like Marco was trying to tell him something inside of those words. Something other than he was saying.

It reminded Jean of the squeezing his hand under the stars during one of those crazy nights. It was too bad that the two tone haired boy had always struggled at finding the hidden message in things unlike the dark haired boy with the freckles that reminded Jean of the stars he had first he'd the others hand under. Didn't Marco understand that he had to spell it out for Jean? Couldn't Marco understand that Jean needed him?

_Ain't been gold since I remembered it that way_

The moments went past his eyes without a near death experience to spur them, just Marco's voice talking to him. Then again, every moment you're alive is one that you are only a hairs breath from death, only a step away from stepping off the tightrope and into a confusing and infinite black. Jean tried to remind himself that safety was the biggest and greatest con in this cruel world, the most well done of incredible illusions.

Nd then he was separated from Marco, and it was confusing. Hadn't he just been talking to the freckled boy just a second ago? Oh, how he was suddenly yearning for the sound of Marco's voice. Even if the freckled boy was going to tell Jean that he was weak, even if he wanted to revoke his promise of forever, Jean just wanted to remember what it had felt like to feel Marco's hand.

_But I always liked the thought of maybe being a runaway_

He wanted to apologize to the freckles that he had forgotten to count before they had separated, he wanted to confess that he had no idea how to identify and then appreciate the moments without Marco's strong hands guiding his while they entertained their fingers and explored the lips that they had already mapped out together a while ago. What if it was too late for Marco to teach Jean how to do it on his own?

"Forever?"

"Of course."

Of course.

"Same here."

I love you.

I'm in love with you.

Please be safe.

_I could be your lover and you could be my heartache_

And Jean knew that Marco was probably worrying about him too, so he had to do his best to live. Even when he was scared, he had to live. Even when his 3D maneuver gear wasn't working and death seemed only one broken promise away, he had to live. Because he had a promise to keep to the boy who had held his hand under the stars and kissed him like he meant it with love every time (maybe he had, who knew).

But Jean forgot one thing. He forgot that it wasn't just him doing his best to stay alive that would bring him to kissing Marco's lips again. He had somehow forgotten that it didn't take one person to tango, and that forever had been a two way promise. He forgot that just because he held up his side of the promise didn't mean that Marco would be able to be up his side too.

_And I could sing the songs that we used to sing way back when_

He saw Marco and felt like suddenly the world had fallen to his knees, or was that Jean? How had Marco . . . How? And even though Jean had stayed alive, he had tried his hardest so that he could just see those freckles am d that smile and those lips on his neck and his fore head but Marco hadn't held up his end of forever. And Jean realized that despite the eternity hidden inside of it . . .

Forever was really quite frail.

He wanted to run. Maybe far away, or maybe just to the arms that were no longer alive to hold him and make him feel stronger than him self.

_The future wasn't everything and we lived because we loved it then_

He wanted to scream at the sky, because how could Marco make the promise of forever sound so sweet on his lips and then turn around and break it with with a premature death? How could that freckled boy come into jeans life like he had belonged there from a moment long before both of them had even been born and then go and wreck it all by breaking something he never had to offer?

The outrage at being left by someone who always swore that they would stay was making his eyesight blur (but that might have been the underlying deep rooted sorrow instead. May be it was both). Maybe daylight wasn't meant for Jean too, it if wasn't meant for Marco then the two tone haired teen knew he didn't want it anymore than the freckled boy had it.

_Oh I'm going back_

He was going to join the military police. He was going to find a way to continue seeing Marco. E had a plan, but nothing really goes to plan in the end, now does it? Maybe he didn't need to have had those plans, because perhaps it was the weight of them on his mind that had made the most important plan if forever seem like just another little plan to follow through with. But no.

Forever was something untouchable, and Jean knew he was a fool for ever having tried to reach out for it in the first place.

_Catch me if you can_

And maybe Jean wasn't ready to live without Marco. Who would be the one to teach him the moments, who would show him how to appreciate them? But, Jean supposed, if Marco's gone for good than I can't keep expecting him to pick up my pieces, can I? The two toned haired boy smiled bitterly to himself a little bit at that. Could he even remember any of those moments that were worth continuing to live for?

The moments rushed back to him, steadily convincing him and making Jean simultaneously more sad and more comforted than he had been in a while.

He remembered the feeling of Marco's hand in his.

He remembered the feeling of Marco's lips learning the pattern of Jean's.

And he remembered so clearly the one moment where he realized he didn't need to look for love, it had found him in the eyes of Marco Bodt.

Because of course it would be Marco.

Of course it would be.

Who else?


End file.
